


Mixing Work and Pleasure

by keenquing



Category: Torchwood
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-06
Updated: 2011-10-06
Packaged: 2017-10-24 08:41:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/261360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keenquing/pseuds/keenquing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tosh and Owen make a bet.  There are no losers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mixing Work and Pleasure

**Author's Note:**

> Written for kink_bingo for the square 'genital torture'

“Here you go, Tosh.”

Tosh looked up from her computer screen, smiling as she took the more-than-welcome cup from Ianto's hand. “Thank you, Ianto.”

“Welcome. You look nice today. New blouse?”

Tosh felt her cheeks colour a bit. “Well, thank you. No, I-ah, just haven't worn it in a bit, that's all. Too cold, you know?”

Ianto rose an eyebrow, but before he could say anything, Owen made his way into the Hub. When the other man's eyes landed on Tosh—and on the ample amount of flesh that was being bared by her pink blouse—he muttered something about having already had his coffee and went off in the other direction. When he was gone, Tosh heard Ianto chuckle.

She couldn't help smirking herself as she turned her attention back to the scan she'd been running. Tosh knew, just as everyone else did, that no one in Torchwood had gotten their own coffee since Ianto had come to work for them. He was trying to avoid her.

It seemed that, without his caffeine fix, Owen had forgotten the simplest things. Like how, even without being in the same room, Tosh could watch his every move. When she pulled up the CCTV and found him down the Archives, she almost laughed. She checked the scan she was running—only thirty percent done. Good, plenty of time. Making an excuse about needing some obscure record—and assuring Ianto that, yes, she knew what it was filed under and (for the millionth time) that she understood his filing system perfectly—she went downstairs.

It was a bit of an awkward walk—Tosh wasn't used to coming down here in heels, or in a skirt so short and tight it might as well have been painted on—but eventually she got to the last step and saw Owen, nose buried into a folder which he was holding upside down. She bit back a laugh and leaned against the entry way, making sure he was deep into his act of reading before she spoke.

“Thought you could hide the whole day? That's cheating, you know.”

Owen twitched, just slightly, but kept his eyes on the paper. “What are you talking about, Tosh?”

Tosh rolled her eyes and minced over to stand behind him, plucking the folder from his fingers. Righting it, she turned it over to the cover and snorted softly. “Probably a good thing you had it upside down. Jack's file, you'd probably have to bleach your eyeballs afterwards.”

As she reached over him to reshelve it—blouse lifting so just a bit of her stomach was bared—she heard Owen swallow and stammer. “Y-yeah,” he scraped his chair back, standing and pacing away from her. “Christ, it's dusty in here. You'd think Ianto would be throwing a fit over this.”

Tosh smirked, leaning against the chair to watch him trying to ignore her. “I think he's more concerned about fixing the mess a hundred years of idiots made of the files before he worries about the dust.”

Owen muttered something and started past her again, going for the stairs. Before he could pass, though, Tosh grabbed the back of his shirt. “Owen.”

He made a noise in the back of his throat. “Y-yeah, Tosh?”

Tosh pushed herself off the chair, pressing her chest up against his back. “Look at me,” she whispered against his neck.

She felt and heard him shudder, but he did as she said. “All right? Happy?” he said, breathlessly. Tosh shook her head, pressing her hips against his. His eyelids fluttered and his mouth dropped open. She laughed softly, running her hand up his chest.

“Not until I win.”

Owen swallowed, and Tosh saw the effort it took for him to step back and open his eyes. “Not happening, sorry,” his smile was shaky, but the pure stubbornness in his eyes was solid.

Or so he thought, but Tosh knew there were some cracks and was pretty sure she knew where they were. “Hmm, I wouldn't be too sure of that,” she murmured. She slid her hand up a bit farther, cupping it against the back of his neck.

He laughed, trying to back up another step. “S-shouldn't you be getting back to work, Tosh? I mean, me, no one's going to realize I'm gone 'til Ianto realizes he didn't get my order for lunch, but you actually—“

He didn't get to say anything more, because Tosh's tongue forced his to stop moving. He did, however, make a very interesting noise. Something between a squeak and a moan. _Have to make him do that again sometime_ Tosh thought as she pulled away.  
“So?” she asked, arms folded across her chest, as Owen fought to get his breath back. He swallowed hard, then closed his eyes.

“So, you need to get back to work,” he said through firm-set teeth. Tosh sighed, he really _was_ going to be difficult.

“This could have been over by now, you know,” she said, as she took his hand. “All you had to do was admit defeat, and you could be having coffee upstairs like the rest of us.”

“Well, if I was losing than maybe I would.”

Tosh smirked, lifting his hand to run her tongue between his fingers. “Oh, you've already lost.”

Before Owen could argue again, she lowered their joined hands, sliding them under her skirt. She saw it the moment he realized she wasn't wearing any underwear, and almost laughed.

“So, what do you say?” she asked, arching her hips against his fingers. Owen muttered a string of not-so-quiet curses as he tried to press up against her.

“Take this goddamn thing off,” he snarled. Tosh giggled, this time, moving so she could whisper in his ear. The fact that she was pressing their lower parts together was just a plus.

“Do I win, then?”

“Yes, you fucking win, now take it off!”

“Money f—thank you,” Tosh sing-songed as a handful of bills were pressed into her palm. She tucked the money into her bra, then lifted both of her hands away from Owen's body. She pulled his fly down, and wasn't sure whether she wanted to laugh or moan at what she saw.

Owen's cock was trying, and failing, to stand up straight and was flushed red from the strain. It was being restrained by the fleshy pink... _thing_ that was hugging it and his balls. Delicately, Tosh slid her fingers under the lip of the sleeve-like thing, which was stretched to the point of being traslucent as it tried to restrain the member, sliding it down the length of his cock. It practically sprang up the second it was free, and Tosh couldn't help chuckling a bit at that.

“So, what's that? Two hours?”

“One and a half,” Owen said, sliding a hand around her back. “Feel free to rub it in as long as you like—long as you rub something else, first.”

Tosh laughed briefly as she shoved Owen towards the wall. “Of course. Wouldn't want you to be a sore loser.”

Normally, Owen would have groaned over that stupid pun. But then Tosh had her legs around him and he was moaning over something else entirely. Dimly, he thought he saw the little pink (and, as far as Owen was concerned, far too warm and soft for its own bloody good) thing that had been wrapped around his cock since he'd gotten up that morning shuffling away, and that it was leaving a trail of moisture behind it. But he had to be imagining it. It had just been moist becaue of his sweat, felt like it was moving because of the pressure on his cock each time he moved. Besides, there were much more important things to be concerned with. Like Tosh's mouth, and tits, and....

“Jack?”

“Hmm?” Jack looked up with a smirk at the Welshman coming up the steps. “Something wrong?”

Ianto shrugged as he continued up the stairs. “Found this on my way down to the archive,” he said, holding out some pink thing. “Any ideas?”

Jack furrowed his brow, until Ianto opened his hand all the way. Jack saw the tiny being—some kind of harmless little hitchhiker that fed off dead skin and the like, if Jack recalled correctly—scoot closer to Ianto's fingertips. Towards his smell, probably. Jack didn't even try to withhold the grin as he looked back to Ianto.

“Plenty. Everyone else gone? Good.” And before Ianto could protest, he grabbed the tiny creature and pulled Ianto into his office.


End file.
